Look at your beguiling smile, your laughing eyes. You are an angel, just four months old, made of miracles, magic, and moonbeams... DEVIL'S CHILD!!! You are my nemesis! Born two days the other side of my diagnosis, you are knowledge growing. You are the bad news like a lozenge on the doctor's tongue. You are change. Because you bring the diaspora for all my youthful powers: stamina, balance, endurance, strength, all running out of me like spittle down your chubby, dimpled chin. You are my disaster.
You are my hope. To have you hold my finger in the lingering perfection of your miniature fist, for just a moment, in the midst of a difficult day, my legs barely under me, my brain grainy and twitching with worst-case scenarios....To have you hold my finger, this jeweled clasp that is your tiny hand, the perfect curve--is the elixir that tricks my mind, the sleight of hand that takes away this cloud of this dark brooding and permits, for a moment, some kind of hope to find me. When you hold my finger, I am calm.
You are my hope. To have you hold my finger in the lingering perfection of your miniature fist, for just a moment, in the midst of a difficult day, my legs barely under me, my brain grainy and twitching with worst-case scenarios....To have you hold my finger, this jeweled clasp that is your tiny hand, the perfect curve--is the elixir that tricks my mind, the sleight of hand that takes away this cloud of this dark brooding and permits, for a moment, some kind of hope to find me. When you hold my finger, I am calm.
Calm.
1 comment:
THERE AREN'T ENOUGH TEARS ON THE EARTH TO EQUAL THIS
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